Echoes And Angels
by The Talismaniac
Summary: A sudden death results in a strange new romance for Gabriel Bowman. Is it really meant to be, or will Sara Pezzini uncover an unwelcome truth about the girl Gabriel loves? (FINISHED) Please R&R!
1. Dagger Dawn

Echoes And Angels

A Witchblade fanfiction by Talismaniactress 

(many thanks to my kind and talented beta-reader Kassiel, and to Trider for title inspiration)

**DISCLAIMER** As you all know, I do not own Witchblade or any of the characters or props involved therewith. Lyanka is the only character I own, the rest belong to either Warner Bros. or Elri.

Chapter One: Dagger Dawn

Gabriel Bowman heard the chime of his door opening and sighed. There seemed to be a remarkable number of people of late who managed to walk through a locked and double-bolted front door, and it was beginning to get old.

"We're closed!" he called out, glancing about for somewhere to put the carton in his arms. "Can't even let me have my morning coffee first," he growled to himself. The fact that he'd already had four cups of coffee since he'd rolled out of bed was entirely beside the point – he never really woke up before the sixth. He found a place to stow the box of glass baubles, and called again, louder this time, "We're closed!"

"Not for the next twenty minutes, you aren't," a woman's voice answered.

Annoyed, Gabriel came striding out of the back room – and stopped in mid-step. There was a girl standing at the counter. It wasn't her looks that had arrested him; she was not what anyone would have called beautiful, and though she had a pretty face she was scowling, which rather ruined the effect. Nor was it the strange clothes she was wearing – a peasant blouse which had slipped off one shoulder, a pair of black gloves with all but the index finger and thumb missing, a rose-colored velvet skirt which swung about her ankles, and what looked like steel-toed combat boots. No, what distracted Gabriel was the long and highly polished dagger strapped tightly to her hip.

She glanced up, and began to speak rapidly the moment she saw him. "I need a figurine," she said imperiously. "It was included in a shipment of Egyptian artifacts which arrived here around three o' clock yesterday afternoon. The one I'm referring to is a burial figure, of the goddess Mekhare holding a cat, and it's about seven inches tall, with a circular base that wasn't part of the original figurine, it was added…"

She trailed off when she noticed he didn't seem to be registering a word she said. "You _do_ know what I'm talking about, don't you?" she asked sharply.

Her acid tone finally jolted Gabriel out of his reverie; his foot hit the floor with a thud that startled him. "I, ah, yeah… I think so…" he stammered. "It's that one with…um… Look, can I ask you about that knife?"

The question caught her off-guard. "My dagger?" she said blankly. Gabriel noticed her hand instinctively went to its hilt; obviously, it wasn't just for show. "What about it?"

"May I see it?" He held out a hand. "Please?" he added when she made no move.

To his surprise she didn't just hand him the blade; she unstrapped the belt from her waist and held out the whole thing. "Be careful with it," she said sternly.

He was. Even in sliding the blade from the sheath he could see it was razor sharp, and in perfect condition. He spent a long moment examining the thing, admiring the pattern of runes inlaid in silver on both the handle and sheath, testing the edge on a block of wood he used as a paperweight – the knife went through it as if it were no more than soft cheese.

"_Imlach Amarth uin Calad_," Gabriel read aloud. "'I am the Doom of Light.' This is what I think it is, isn't it?"

"Depends what you think it is," she replied casually.

Gabriel sheathed the dagger and handed it back to her, watching as she strapped it back on. "That's the blade that killed Arianrhod of Cornwall, isn't it? Morgaine LeFay's handmaiden?"

At that, the girl's jaw dropped, and she turned to face him. "_How_ did you know that?" she demanded, but her tone had changed. It was no longer superior, but respectful.

Gabriel shrugged, grinning, and repeated his mantra: "It's my job to know about objects of power."  When she didn't say anything, he went on, "That thing's worth a fair amount of money. Where'd you get it?"

"Oh," she said vaguely, "I've had it for years… didn't know it was anything special."

Gabriel suspected she was lying, but he let it go. "Interested in selling it?"

For a brief moment the girl looked absolutely horrified – and then in a flash she recovered herself, and was once again imperious and superior.

"I didn't come here to sell," she said curtly. "I came here looking for something. You did say you had the figure I'm looking for, did you not?"

"Uh, yeah…" Gabriel disappeared behind the counter for a moment, and then reemerged carrying a small crate. As he pried it open, he asked, "How did you know I got this in yesterday?"

She sighed. "I've been trying to get my hands on this figurine for two or three years now. Every time, I always seemed to track it down just a few days too late, catching up with it just after it had been sold."

"Why is it so important to you?" Gabriel asked curiously.

"It belongs to me," she said. "It was stolen."

Gabriel actually dropped the crowbar in surprise. "Hey now," he cried angrily, "just what are you saying? I don't deal in stolen goods! The guy I bought these from had a perfectly legal bill of sale!"

She half-smiled. "I'm sure he did," she said gently. "I'm not accusing you of anything, Mr. Bowman. You had no part in this. You bought it legally, and so did the man who sold it to you. But the man _he_ bought it from…" Her scowl returned. "_He_ was a thief."

**_Damn_**, Gabriel thought. **_Means I'll have to give it to give it back to her, no charge. And I paid too much for it in the first place_**. He picked up the crowbar, still frowning, and returned to prying open the crate.

He finally got the thing open, and rummaged about inside until he found the statuette she wanted. The brilliant smile that lit her face when he held it up made a startling change, and for a split second Gabriel caught himself thinking that she was actually attractive.

"Oh, _thank you!_" she breathed, and took it gently. Any doubts Gabriel might have harbored about whether or not it was really hers dissipated.

"No charge," he told her. "Since it was stolen. I mean, it's yours anyway right?"

She laughed then, a beautiful infectious laugh that made Gabriel smile, though he had no idea what was funny. "I'm not here to _buy_ it, silly," she chuckled.

Gabriel gaped at her. "Then what on Earth did you want it for?" he demanded. His head couldn't quite decide between outright shock, disgust that he'd just wasted an hour _not_ making a sale, and dread that she might turn out to be some sort of psycho who would find it amusing to dismember him with that knife of hers just so that she could keep her figurine. A moment later shock won out.

"This is what I wanted it for," the girl said, and pulled off the figurine's arm.

Halfway through an exclamation of horror, Gabriel shut his mouth. Along the side of the figure's body, which a moment ago had been hidden by the statue's arm, there was a hairline crack. The girl dug her long fingernail into the opening and the goddess' chest swung outward on invisible hinges, revealing a tiny hollow compartment. And inside… inside was a diamond ring.

She held it up, a smile lighting her face. "My wedding ring!" she announced delightedly.

THAT was too much, even for Gabriel.

"You're _married?!_" he gasped. She couldn't possibly be any older than he was, and she certainly looked a good deal younger.

For a moment she seemed confused. "Oh, no," she said vaguely. "It… it was my great-grandmother's. Family heirloom and all that. I've kept it hidden in the statue for years; I thought if someone did break into the house, that figurine would be the last thing they'd take. Just my luck the guy happened to be an art thief." She laughed again. "The statue means nothing to me," she went on. "Keep it. Sell it. I daresay that compartment will give you a whole new spin on the thing." She winked.

"Ah, yeah, it uh, it definitely will," Gabriel said, grinning lopsidedly. He watched carefully as she closed the figure's chest and slid the arm back onto the tiny pins that held it in place. He examined it closely when she handed it back to him, and discovered that it was difficult to see the crack in the shoulder even when you knew it was there; no wonder no one had known what it could do. He wondered how she had discovered it.

"How did you –" he began, and stopped.

The shop was empty. The girl was nowhere in sight.


	2. Innocent Blood

Echoes And Angels

A Witchblade fanfiction by Talismaniactress 

(many thanks to my kind and talented beta-reader Kassiel, and to Trider for title inspiration)

**Chapter Two: Innocent Blood**

"Pezzini, go."

"Hey Pez, we got a real weird one down here." Danny Woo's voice echoed over the line. "Po-Po told me to call you."

Sara Pezzini sighed. She never stopped hoping that one of these days, she would get a plain old-fashioned murder victim. Unfortunately every call she got seemed to be, as she came to think of it, "A new, break-the-mold kind of designer homicidal weirdness." She wondered what weirdness her partner Danny had in store for her this morning.

Twenty minutes later, she swung off her Buell in Central Park to find Danny hurrying over to her. "Call came in at 9:02 this morning. Some hot-dog vendor found her lying under a tree. Thought she was just asleep until he got a good look at her. Called us right away."

Sara raised an eyebrow. "What, he didn't even check to see if she was still alive?"

Danny grimaced. "It's pretty obvious she wasn't alive. Over here." He pointed down at a corpse lying serenely under one of the willows that lined a small pond.

Danny was right, Sara realized. Even from fifteen feet away there was something very definitely _dead_ about her. Maybe it was the fact that there wasn't a trace of color anywhere in her skin or hair – the girl's body gave new meaning to the term, "White as a sheet."

"She almost looks like she was laid out like that on purpose," Sara said. "Who the hell did this?"

"At first guess? I'd say a vampire." It was Vicky Po who answered her, Sara's friend and the on-call medical examiner for the precinct.

Sara stared at her. "You're kidding, right?"

"Not entirely. There isn't a drop of blood in that girl's body."

Sara's jaw dropped, and then she laughed. "You've been reading too many Anne Rice novels," she accused.

Vicky grinned without humor. "I think this one would have even Anne stumped."

"Whaddya mean?"

"No bite marks. In fact, no marks of any kind, anywhere on the body. Aside from the distinct lack of blood, there's no discernable cause of death."

"…designer homicidal weirdness…" Sara muttered to herself.

"You sure know how to pick 'em, don't you Pez?" Danny teased.

"Funny, Woo," Sara snapped. She crouched down beside the body and, taking a deep breath, touched the girl's fingers.

Immediately a whirl of images surrounded her. There was the girl, standing beneath the tree with her boyfriend, and she was crying… Then a flash of fear and panic, that faded into a dreamlike peace… and then she was dead, and phantom hands were laying her tenderly on the ground, and she looked so beautiful, as if she were merely asleep…

Abruptly Sara slammed back into her own body, her own mind, and Danny was looking at her quizzically and asking if she were all right.

"I'm fine," she muttered, and then repeated firmly, "I'm fine." She glanced down at the innocent-looking bracelet on her wrist. **_Why couldn't you have shown me the killer?_** she wondered plaintively. But no, it never seemed to work like that.

And then a whisper in her mind distracted her. _The ring_, she heard it say. _Look at the ring…_

Sara glanced down at the girl's hand again. There, indeed, lay a ring, not on the hand itself but beside it on the grass. It was an enormous diamond set in a slender silver band. A wedding ring. Sara picked it up, and again there was that sensation of being outside herself, only this time there were no images, just knowledge… but it slipped away from her before she could catch it.

 "This girl might've had a boyfriend," she said, standing up. "Maybe this was some sort of lovers' quarrel that got out of hand. See if you can find anything, will you?"

"Sure thing," Danny replied. "Where're you going?"

"To find a jeweler," Sara told him shortly.


	3. Jewelled Secrets

Echoes And Angels

A Witchblade fanfiction by Talismaniactress 

(many thanks to my kind and talented beta-reader Kassiel, and to Trider for title inspiration)

**Chapter Three: Jewelled Secrets**

"Gabriel! GABRIEL!" Sara bellowed, pounding on the door of the Talismaniac. "Why does he insist on listening to music at top volume?" she moaned to herself. Whatever song Gabriel was playing, Sara could feel the vibration of the bass right through the floor. "_GABRIEL!_" she tried again, thumping the door as hard as she could. Her arm was swinging toward it for another blow when it opened, and Sara, thrown off-balance, toppled forward.

"_Whoa_, Sara… I didn't know you cared."

Sara glanced up to see Gabriel grinning wickedly at her. "You little—"she began, and hauled herself out of his arms.

"What, you'd have preferred I let you fall on your face?" he said with a smirk.

"Just you watch it, Bowman," she snapped. She tried to glare at him, but to her disgust it turned into a grin.

Gabriel grinned back. "So what can I do for you?" he asked as he headed across the room for the stereo remote to turn the music off.

"Uh, right." Sara fumbled in her pocket for the ring. "Look, I know modern objects aren't really your specialty, but you were the only person I could think of to ask. We found this ring at a crime scene—" she dug deeper in her pocket, still searching for the ring— "and it didn't look like the usual Weisfield's fare. I thought you might be able to tell me who could have sold it." Her fingers finally found the ring, and she held up.

To her surprise, Gabriel just stared at it. "Where… where did you find that?" he choked out.

Sara frowned. "It was on some girl's corpse in Central Park."

Gabriel closed his eyes. "Was she about eighteen? Blonde hair? Oddly dressed?"

"It isn't quite that simple, Gabriel—"

"_Was_ she?"

Sara was startled by the intensity in his voice. "She might have been."

"What do you mean, might?"

"Well, I wasn't exactly paying attention to her _clothes_, Gabriel."

"Were you paying attention to anything?" he muttered bitterly.

"Hey!" she snapped, indignant. "What's with you?"

Gabriel sighed, and Sara was shocked to see a tear slide down his cheek. "I'm sorry," he said, and she knew he meant it. "You didn't deserve that. I just… The girl who owned that ring was in here this morning to get it."

"_You_ sold this?" Sara asked incredulously.

He shook his head. "Not exactly. She had it hidden in a statue that someone stole from her. She came in this morning looking for it, she said she'd been trying to track it down for two or three years now. Anyway, I found the statue for her, and she just took the ring and told me I could keep the statue, said she didn't care about it." He opened his mouth to tell Sara about the girl's strange disappearance, about the doors and windows that had still been locked when he checked them – and then he stopped. "Then she left," he said instead. "I shouldn't have let her go alone," he added self-deprecatingly.

"Hey, now Gabriel, this is NOT your fault!" Sara said sternly. "Don't even gimme that crap!"

"Sorry," he said again, rubbing his eyes as though they itched.

Sara sighed. "D'you happen to remember what her name was?"

Gabriel blinked, and then shook his head. "Now that you mention it… she never told me."

Privately, Sara was a bit surprised by that, but she kept it to herself. "Well, thanks kid. I'll let you know if we turn up anything on her killer." She headed for the door.

"Thanks," Gabriel said, and then added, "Sara?"

She turned. "Yeah?"

"What are you gonna do with the ring?"

Sara raised an eyebrow. "It's evidence, Gabriel."

"Right." He paused. "What about when you guys are done with it?"

"Well, I'm assuming it'll go to her family," she replied, looking at him quizzically. **_He was positively _squirming**, she thought.

"Of course," he said quickly. "Right. See you later."

"Sure thing, kid."


	4. Unsympathetic

Echoes And Angels

A Witchblade fanfiction by Talismaniactress 

(many thanks to my kind and talented beta-reader Kassiel, and to Trider for title inspiration)

**Chapter Four: Unsympathetic**

"Hey Danny," said Jake McCarty as he poked his head in the door.

"Yeah?" Danny said as he and Sara looked up from their desks. 

"Found the info you were askin' for, about that girl in Central Park yesterday morning. Her name's Carlais Korskie, eighteen, lived in an apartment in Manhattan with her boyfriend. Worked in a hair salon on Fifteenth." He handed Danny the stack of papers.

"Thanks, Jake." Danny flipped through the file as Jake shut the door behind him. "The boyfriend's got a criminal record a mile long," he commented, whistling. "Mostly robbery; even one Grand Theft Auto. None of it armed, though. And there's no history of assault. Did a few years' time, but was released for good behavior and hasn't been arrested since. We oughtta check him out anyway."

"Probably," Sara agreed, standing up and stretching.

The boyfriend turned out not to be home, although a neighbor suggested they might try back after seven, as that was usually when he came home from volunteering at the homeless shelter. "Regular upstanding citizen now," Danny muttered, and Sara snorted.

A trip to the girl's workplace turned out to be more fruitful, however.

"Carlais?" the manager said sourly when they asked about her. "Yeah, she works here. For now, anyway."

"What do you mean?" Sara asked.

"I mean, this is her fourth job since she moved here six months ago, and she ain't gonna have this one much longer either, at the rate she's going! You know she didn't even show up for work this morning? Didn't call, either."

"Ah…" With a look, Danny and Sara agreed not to tell the woman about Carlais' death until she'd told them everything she knew. "What can you tell us about her, ma'am?"

The manager made a face. "She's not a bad worker and the customers love her! I'm always hearing about how 'sweet' she is. She's just got her head too far up in the clouds! Do you know she _actually_ believes in fairies and dragons and all that crap?"

Remembering what Vicki had said yesterday about a vampire, Sara muttered, "Maybe she was right after all."

The manager frowned, and Danny – guessing what had prompted the comment – said, "What can you tell us about her boyfriend?"

"Gregory? Good kid. Lord knows what he was doing with a mess like Carlais. He could have had almost any girl he wanted!"

Danny frowned. "Were you aware he had a criminal record?"

The woman waved a hand dismissively. "The police just don't like him. He's a good boy; they don't like his politics. Gregory, he gets things _done_, he doesn't sit around waiting for other people to do them for him… or dreaming that they'll magically accomplish themselves," she added, and they guessed she meant Carlais again.

"How would you describe their relationship?"

"Hmmmm," she said slowly. "He loves her, but she is just infatuated. If you ask me, I think he's getting fed up with her daydreaming. She just fawns over him all the time and follows him around like a puppy, always looking sad and lost when he isn't around. She's been moping lately. She says he's become _distant_. Says she's afraid he doesn't love her any more, and personally I think she's right. In fact I wouldn't be at all surprised if that's why she hasn't shown up today. You know she actually started crying about it while working last week?"

"Really," Danny said. He glanced at Sara, and then changed tactics. "How about her family? Would you happen to know how we might contact them?"

The manager shook her head. "She hasn't any," she told them. "Her parents were killed six months ago, back in California. That's why she moved here. As far as I know, she doesn't have any other family. Why would you want them, anyway?"

Sara, realizing they had probably gotten all they were going to out of the woman, said, "Ma'am, I'm _really sorry to have to be the one to tell you this, but I'm afraid Carlais Korskie is dead."_

The woman didn't even bat an eye. "Hmph," she said. "What did she do, kill herself over Gregory? I wouldn't put it past her."

"She was suicidal?" Danny asked, surprised.

"Oh, sure. Who wouldn't be, in her position? Family dead, can't hold down a job, love of her life getting ready to leave her…"

Appalled by the woman's callousness, Sara swallowed hard. "I see. Well, thank you for your cooperation, ma'am." She hurried from the store.

"That girl didn't kill herself," Danny said when he'd caught up with her.

"No," Sara agreed. "We'll just have to wait and talk to her boyfriend…"


	5. Revelations

**Echoes And Angels**   
_A Witchblade fanfiction by Talismaniactress_

(many thanks to my kind and talented beta-reader Kassiel, and to Trider for title inspiration)

**Chapter Five: Revelations**

The clock struck ten, startling Gabriel out of his reverie. He realized he'd been staring at the same crack in the floor for nearly half an hour. He shook himself and stood up. It had been a long and very slow day, and he'd found himself thinking about the strange girl.

Again.

He wondered vaguely why her death bothered him so much. It wasn't as if they'd been close. In fact, he hadn't even known her name. And yet somehow that only made it that much worse.

He jumped when the doorbell rang, spilling his mug of coffee all over his shirt. He cursed loudly and then bellowed, "COMING!" as he stripped it off and looked around to find a clean one. The persistent knocking hurried him, and he'd only gotten the clean shirt half on when he opened the door.

Sara raised an eyebrow when she caught sight of him. "Did I interrupt something?" she asked sweetly.

Gabriel shook his head no, then pulled his shirt the rest of the way on, standing aside to let her into the shop. "Just spilled some coffee," he explained. "Speaking of which, you want any?"

"Ah, no, I can't stay long," she said. "I just came to give you this." She held out her hand.

Gabriel stared; it was the girl's ring. "I thought it was evidence? And what about her family?"

"It's been four days; this thing has told us everything it's going to." In fact, it had not told them anything at all – try as she might, Sara had not been able to coax a single vision or emotion from the thing. Hours spent turning it over and examining it had yielded not a single clue. "And she hasn't got any family, at least none that we can find. Her boyfriend said he didn't give it to her, so he wouldn't take it."

"He didn't," Gabriel agreed. "She told me it belonged to her great-great-grandmother."

He still hadn't taken the ring, so Sara set it down on his desk. "I see. Well, I gotta get going – got an early day tomorrow. Get to bed before three a.m., will you?"

Gabriel chuckled. "Yeah. _Right." Sara shot him a grin and left._

It was a long time before Gabriel felt able to pick up the ring. There was something else, something he hadn't been able to articulate to Sara – partly because he was afraid she might laugh and partly because he still wasn't entirely sure what it was. When he finally did pick it up, he just looked at it for a long time before flopping down into a large armchair to stare at it some more.

It really was an astoundingly beautiful ring. The diamond had to be a full carat, at least, and it was a brilliant cut that glittered magnificently in the low light from his desk lamp. He turned it over and over in his hands, studying the minute engraving on the silver band – a vine with leaves and roses twined about it, and was that a name? Gabriel strained his eyes to see the tiny writing wound into the vine pattern.

_Angharad Avalon._

(**Author's note**: I wrote this weeks ago, before I began reading the Witchblade fics on FanFiction.net and before I realized that two of the authors here are named Angharad and Avalon. -_-' I promise, this was purely coincidental. Weird, yes, but coincidental. This story has nothing to do with either of them, just to clarify.)


	6. Angel Appears

**Echoes And Angels**   
_A Witchblade fanfiction by Talismaniactress_

(many thanks to my kind and talented beta-reader Kassiel, and to Trider for title inspiration)

**Chapter Six: Angel Appears**

It was the sunshine that finally woke him. Gabriel had fallen asleep in the armchair, and as the sun rose over the tops of the nearby buildings, the light fell across his eyes. He shifted uneasily in the chair, attempting to avoid the bright light, and stiff muscles reminded him that the armchair was not the ideal place for a night's rest. He yawned, stretched, and opened his eyes.

 Then he caught sight of the girl. She was sitting on the countertop, one leg curled under her, the other swinging idly as she watched him intently, a vague smile on her face. For one split second, Gabriel thought he was seeing a ghost. He watched in astonishment as she leapt off the counter, her heavy boots hitting the floor with a very solid thud that he could feel right through the chair.

"Good morning," she said brightly. "I was wondering when you were going to wake up."

Gabriel gaped at her. "When I was— but— you're dead!"

She looked at him blankly. "Uh… no, I don't think so."

"But the ring!"

"Do you know where my ring is?" she asked, quite startled. "I managed to lose it less than three hours after leaving here on Thursday – it fell off my hand somewhere in Central-"

Before she could finish, Gabriel had launched himself out of the chair and was standing before her. She stared up at him with wide blue eyes as he laid a hand on her cheek. "You're real," he said wonderingly, and for a moment she thought he looked as though he might cry. "You're alive." Then suddenly whatever had come over him passed, and he dropped his hand. "I—I'm sorry," he mumbled. "I was just…" He trailed off.

Her expression softened to something almost tender. "You were worried about me?" she asked, feeling a lump come into her throat. It had been _years since anyone had worried about her, and this boy didn't even know her. But then again, that was why he was worrying, wasn't it? Because he didn't know._

Gabriel opened his mouth to say that no, he hadn't been _worried about her – he'd thought she was dead, and it had nearly broken his heart. But all that came out instead was merely, "Yeah. I was." He then opened his fist and extended his hand, fingers uncurling to reveal the ring he'd fallen asleep holding._

She stared at it for a long moment, then slowly closed her fingers over the ring… and his hand. Before Gabriel even realized what was happening, she was kissing him.

He was so startled that his automatic reaction was to pull away. As his body made to do so, his head told it to stay put, and the end result was that his feet got so tangled that he tripped, toppling backwards into the armchair. As he fell, he had just enough presence of mind to slip one arm around the girl's waist, and she came down with him, so that their lips never parted.

Part of Gabriel was shocked beyond words to find himself kissing a complete stranger – he didn't even know her name!_ – but the rest of him was too enthralled by the feel of her in his arms and her tongue warm on his lips. It was so sudden, so passionate, so **right**… everything he'd always expected love to be._

And THAT brought his train of thought to a skidding halt.

He wasn't in love with her. He couldn't be in love with her! He'd met her less than a week ago! He didn't know the first thing about her! You couldn't love someone you didn't know anything about, could you?

Gabriel broke off the kiss abruptly. He stared down at her, at her expression of surprise and wonder, an expression he felt sure must be reflected on his own face. "Who are you?" he asked.

The question was so random, so incongruous, that she burst out laughing – that beautiful, charming, contagious laughter. He found himself once again grinning in response to it.

"My name," she choked out between giggles, "is Lyanka Ladaei, I'm twenty years old, and I work part-time as a seamstress for a tailoring and alterations shop in the Bronx. Who're you?"

"Gabriel Bowman, twenty-two, and obviously, you already know what I do for a living."

She grinned and clambered off him, holding out a hand and help him out of the chair. As he took her hand, he noticed for the first time what she was wearing – it was, if possible, an even odder ensemble than the one she'd worn the first time he saw her. The sleeves, collar, and fingerless gloves of her formfitting black velvet blouse were only held on by virtue of some grommets and a great many large safety pins; her black pants were slick, glittering silver in the morning light, and featured enough artful tears and gashes to show off the fishnet stockings she was wearing underneath. And of course, her dagger was strapped to her hip. She had left her hair long except for a few strands in the front, which she had woven into an intricate pattern and pinned up with a rhinestone clip – the rest fell past her waist in a shimmering golden sheet. She didn't appear to be wearing any makeup except on her eyes, which were heavily ringed with black. On anyone else it might not have worked, but she had such large and impressive eyes that the effect was quite lovely, if mildly disconcerting.

"Whaddya say we go get some breakfast before you open for the day?" she asked, smiling up at him. She was shorter than he was… but only barely. He liked that. It meant he had to do less work to kiss her, which he did before answering, "Sounds good to me, but I need a shower before I go anywhere."

"I've already had mine, or I'd offer you company," she said, winking.

Gabriel quickly shut his mouth around his immediate thought – **_Care to join me anyway?_** – and headed for his bedroom before it found a way to escape. Gathering up fresh clothes and closing the bathroom door behind him, he sagged against the wall, staring at the ceiling and wondering what this whirlwind was which seemed to have caught him up.

Twenty minutes later he emerged, scrubbed clean and toweling his hair dry. He found Lyanka seated at his computer, playing a music video on the large wall screen. After a moment he recognized it as Angra's "Queen Of The Night."

"_Nice setup," she said appreciatively, hearing him come up behind her. He grinned with pride and then ducked to kiss her again. She managed to drag it out into a prolonged and passionate moment, lip against lip, hand on the back of his neck, drawing him closer. Then, "Breakfast?" she said impudently, smirking._

"You—" he began, and poked her playfully in the ribs before helping her out of the chair. She threw on her coat – a long, beautifully tailored black trench coat – and took his hand, her fingers twining comfortably into his as they locked the apartment door and made their way down onto the street.

"So where shall we go for breakfast?" Gabriel asked as they strolled leisurely down the sidewalk.

"The first place we come to," she said. "I haven't eaten yet, and if I'm guessing right—" and she paused just long enough for Gabriel's stomach to let out a long, low rumble that was clearly audible to both of them, "you're pretty hungry yourself." She grinned at his surprised expression.

"I've known you less than a week and you can already second-guess my stomach," he said with a chuckle. "You're amazing."


	7. Impossibilities

**Echoes And Angels**   
_A Witchblade fanfiction by Talismaniactress_

(many thanks to my kind and talented beta-reader Kassiel, and to Trider for title inspiration)

**Chapter Seven: Impossibilities**

"Hey Pez." It was Jake again, poking his head in the office door. "I just got these from McInty over in Trenton. He said you asked for anything he had that was similar to the Korskie murder? He's sent three files."

"_Three?" Sara asked incredulously, dropping the stack of papers she'd been reading onto the desk. "They've had __three murders like this in New Jersey? Why hasn't any of this been on the news? I'm amazed the media isn't having a field day with this…"_

"Well," Jake said matter-of-factly, sitting down on the edge of her desk, "my guess is they would be if the most recent one hadn't happened, oh, about twenty years ago."

"That's the _recent one?" Sara stared at him. "How old're the other two?"_

"This one's from 1957 and this one is from 1932."

Sara didn't even try to hide her amazement. She opened her mouth to ask another question when Danny came into the office as well.

"Twelve," he said, dropping a large box onto his desk with a thud.

"Twelve?" Sara repeated blankly.

"Twelve what?" Jake asked.

"Twelve murders just like the Korskie case, dating all the way back to 1899, if you can believe it."

There was a very long, stunned silence. Sara eventually broke it by saying, "Jake, you still in touch with that guy at the FBI?"

"Uh, yeah," Jake stammered, shaking off his shock.

"Call him. Get in touch with every law enforcement agency you can think of, anywhere in the country, and ask 'em for any files they've got like this. I want to know how widespread this thing is, and how far back it goes."

When Jake left, Danny followed him out, adding, "I've got a friend who works homicide in Seattle; I'll see if I can reach her."

Sara nodded and picked up her own telephone. It hadn't even gotten halfway through the first ring when Gabriel picked up. "Hey Sara!"

"Hey kid. I've got some news for you about Carlais."

"Who?"

Sara frowned. "Carlais Korskie, the girl who was killed last week." When he didn't answer, she added, "The one you were so upset about."

"Oh! Right. Look Sara, I've been meaning to call you and talk to you about that."

"What about it? If you're wondering whether we've caught the responsible party, I'm afraid I have bad news, but I _am following some new leads—"_

"She's not dead."

"_What?!"_

"The girl I was worried about, the one who owns that ring you found. She wasn't the one who was killed! She lost that ring in Central Park the same morning she got it back – your victim must have found it just before she was killed."

"Waitaminute," Sara said firmly. "Let me see if I've got this straight: some mysterious woman appears at your shop two hours before you're supposed to open, takes back a family heirloom that's been missing for years, loses it that same day and when another girl finds it, _she turns up dead within the hour?"_

"Yep," Gabriel agreed. When Sara snorted in disbelief he went on, "Well, it isn't really too hard to understand, is it? I mean that ring must be worth a fortune. Maybe… maybe that other girl found it and someone _else tried to steal it from her, but was scared off without it when a third party happened along."_

Sara frowned, and then realized she had never told Gabriel the circumstances of Carlais' death. She was just about to when Danny reappeared, beckoning to indicate he needed to talk to her. "Nice theory, kid, but it isn't gonna fly. Can I stop by later and talk to you about it?"

"Sure thing. I got someone I want you to meet, anyway."

Sara could practically _hear the grin in his voice, and she wondered at it. "I'll see you around seven," she told him, and hung up._


	8. Reliving The Past

**Echoes And Angels**   
_A Witchblade fanfiction by Talismaniactress_

(many thanks to my kind and talented beta-reader Kassiel, and to Trider for title inspiration)

**Chapter Eight: Reliving The Past**

Gabriel closed his cell phone with a snap and slipped it back into his hip pocket.

"Who was that?" Lyanka asked over the rim of her coffee cup.

"A friend of mine," Gabriel said. "I'd really like you to meet her, she said she'd stop by the store at seven tonight. Can you make it?"

Lyanka grinned. "Actually," she said, "it just so happens that I have today off. I'll stick around as long as you can tolerate me."

Gabriel laughed outright. "Tolerating you is not the issue," he assured her. "Getting _enough of you, now… that could be a problem!" He put an arm around her and hugged her close._

The pair of them were sitting at a corner table in a tiny old restaurant. Though the place was less than ten blocks from Gabriel's apartment, he had never eaten there before, and they had both decided it looked appealing. The sign in the window boasted fresh-cooked gourmet meals made with handpicked ingredients. As it was still quite early, they were the only ones in the place besides an elderly lady near the window, and a smiling, sweet-faced young woman had waited them on quickly. They passed the time chatting as they waited for their food.

"So," Lyanka said, her head leaning on Gabriel's shoulder, "why haven't you got any family photos in that apartment of yours? You seem to have everyone's history but your own plastered all over your walls."

Gabriel thought about his young life: his Bulgarian mother, small and fragile, his overbearing, ex-military father, his younger sister whose death had torn the family apart. His father had blamed his mother, though it was no one's fault, (the baby had had a congenital defect and died in her sleep), and the tense resentment never left the atmosphere after it. Any money Gabriel might have hoped to use for college was gone by the time he was a high school freshman, squandered by his father on alcohol. Knowing he didn't have the grades to earn a scholarship, he decided there was no point in high school if he wasn't going to college. He dropped out his sophomore year, moved out, and started up Talismaniac.com. It hadn't been long before he'd made enough to set up the accompanying store. His mother, who didn't believe in divorce, was still living with his father, and for a few years Gabriel sent money home to them… but his mother died when Gabriel was nineteen, and Gabriel hadn't spoken to or heard from his father since. All in all, they weren't memories he relished.

"I don't like to think about it much," he muttered.

Lyanka glanced up at him, eyes sympathetic. "I can understand that one," she said.

"You?"

"Yes, Gabriel, me." She sighed. "My parents died a long time ago. My father was quite rich and didn't spend much time at home, and my mother died when I was very young. I was an only child, so usually the only company I had was that of my maid."

"You had a _maid?"_

"I said my father was rich. Anyway, that lasted until I was twelve, and then my father was killed. I was sent to live with a foster family. I, uh… didn't get along well with their kids. It wasn't long before I ran away.

"Eventually," she finished, "I ended up here in the States for college, and I've been here ever since."

"Just for college? Did you not live here before?"

"I was born in Wales."

"Wales! Really? You don't sound like it. I mean, you don't have the accent."

"Only because I worked very hard at getting rid of it! I can use it when it suits me." Gabriel's eyebrows shot up – she had sounded quite distinctly Welsh that time. He was impressed.

The arrival of their food ended the conversation, and though Gabriel was curious to hear more about her childhood, he didn't bring it up again for fear she might ask him about his, and that was something he wasn't ready to relive just yet.

After breakfast they walked hand in hand to the Talismaniac. As they reached the door, Gabriel turned to her, assuming she would have to leave. "I wish you could stay," he said mournfully.

Lyanka giggled. "You're not sick of me yet?"

"I'll never get sick of you," Gabriel told her quite seriously.

"Never is a very long time, my dear," she said softly, and he wondered if he'd ever seen a human being look as sad as she did in that moment. He didn't know what he'd said wrong, but he wished he could take it back. It passed quickly, however, and a second later she was smiling brightly again.

"You could stay for a while," he suggested after a moment. He knew it was probably a bad idea, knew he'd probably spend more time with her than with his customers, but he couldn't bear the idea of her leaving just yet.

"I could," she agreed. "I _do have the day off, after all."_

Gabriel had forgotten that. "Would you stay, then? Just for a little while?"

"I'll stay as long as you like. I promise I'll be good," she added with a smirk, and he laughed.

She moved in closer to him, leaned her head on his shoulder, and he put his arms around her. He was amazed at how comfortable it felt, and how natural – as if she had always been there in his arms and he had merely forgotten, briefly, what it felt like. Gabriel hugged her tightly, burying his face in her shining golden hair.


	9. Connections part 1

**Echoes And Angels**   
_A Witchblade fanfiction by Talismaniactress_

(many thanks to my kind and talented beta-reader Kassiel, and to Trider for title inspiration)

**Chapter Nine: Connections (part 1)**

By six o' clock that evening, Sara, Danny, and Jake had compiled a record of over one hundred and twenty cases identical to Carlais Korskie's. The three of them were holed up in Sara and Danny's office, every available surface covered with papers and file folders.

"We've got at least one from every state except Hawaii," Danny announced as he shifted a few files around on a desk already stacked high with papers. "Although we still haven't heard back from Alaska or Kentucky."

"So what do we do now?" asked Jake.

"Now," Sara replied, "you guys get reading while I head over to Gabriel's and see if he can tell us anything about this. If it goes back as far as these files imply, he might know something about it."

Danny and Jake nodded. While both, like Sara, considered Gabriel little more than a child, they acknowledged and respected his professional skills and his willingness to help them out when they needed it. **_And boy, do we ever need it…_** thought Danny.

Sara stood up, gave Danny a smile and Jake an encouraging slap on the back as she grabbed her helmet and keys and left. The rush of cold air as she steered her Buell through the streets refreshed her and helped her clear her aching head. One hundred and twenty-four identical murders spread out not only over the country but over the _century… and best of all, not a single witness to any of them. Not one. Dimly Sara wondered what the odds were against that._

It was ten to seven when Sara parked her bike in front of the Talismaniac and entered the shop. She didn't see Gabriel at first; he wasn't at his usual post behind the counter.

"Gabriel?" she called tentatively. Getting no answer, she crossed the shop and gently pushed open the door to the back room. "Gabri—" she began, and stopped. Gabriel was there all right – in the middle of an obviously passionate kiss with a blonde girl Sara had never seen before.

For one instant, Sara felt a fleeting pang of jealousy. Not that she wanted to kiss Gabriel, of course – they were friends, that was all. But the idea that he had a girlfriend he hadn't even _mentioned to her… that hurt more than she was willing to admit, even to herself. She dismissed the feeling, reminding herself that she could hardly expect Gabriel to tell her everything about his private life._

"Ahem," she said loudly.

Gabriel jumped, and grinned guiltily when he caught sight of Sara in the doorway. "Hey," he said.

The girl didn't seem at all surprised to see Sara there, and smiled a greeting, which Sara returned. "Hey," she said in answer to Gabriel.

Sara stood aside to let them come back into the main shop. "So who's your friend, Gabriel?" she asked, breaking the awkward silence.

Gabriel shot the girl a brilliant smile and settled against the counter with his arm around her waist. "This," he said to Sara, "is Lyanka Ladaei. She owns that ring you found."

Sara's eyebrows shot up. "Oh really?" she said.

"Yep," Gabriel nodded.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Lyanka said, extending a hand.

Sara shook it – and then froze, horrified, as she watched the girl draw the dagger at her hip and drive it into Gabriel's chest. Oblivious, Gabriel continued to smile amiably as he sank to the floor, eyes blank and glazed. Blood poured from the wound, soaking his shirt and the surrounding carpet. He was _very dead. Sara felt a scream rising in her throat as she stared at the woman who had just murdered her friend._

"Sara?"

Sara blinked, and realized she was still holding Lyanka's hand. She dropped it quickly, feeling sick. _What had that been all about?!_

"Sara, are you all right?" It was Gabriel, and it was obviously not the first time he'd asked the question.

"I'm… I'm fine," she stammered. Gabriel's expression told Sara he suspected she'd had a vision; Lyanka was staring openly. "I'm _fine," Sara repeated again, giving herself a small shake._

"Okay…" said Gabriel, looking rather skeptical.

"Anyway," Sara said, changing the subject quickly before Gabriel could ask what she'd seen, "I was wondering if you could help me out with this case."

"What do you need?" Gabriel asked, immediately all business.

"A connection," Sara sighed. "The body of Carlais Korskie was found in Central Park last Thursday. Although there were no marks anywhere on the body, the corpse had been drained of every last drop of blood. Aside from that, no clues whatsoever; no fingerprints, no footprints, no witnesses. When we got back to the precinct, I had Danny and Jake look for any other files that might be similar – didn't expect to find any, but it's standard procedure to look. D'you wanna know how many identical cases we found?"

"How many?"

"One hundred and twenty-four, Gabriel. One hundred and twenty-four. And not only are they located everywhere across the country – they go all the way back to 1899! And it's always the same deal: bloodless bodies, no clues, and no witnesses. _None of these crimes have ever been solved. So please, Gabriel… __please tell me you know something about this."_

Gabriel grinned at her and sat down at his computer. "You're in luck. I do."

Sighing with relief, Sara sank down into a nearby chair. "What can you tell me?"

"It's a rare phenomenon called exsanguination which in ancient times was attributed to vampires, due to the fact that it was usually indicated by extreme blood loss and one or two puncture wounds on the neck or thigh." As he spoke, Gabriel pulled up photographs on his computer screen to demonstrate what he was referring to. "However, there have been a few documented cases in which no puncture wounds could be found anywhere on the body. Science has yet to explain these," he said pointedly. "The first documented cases began as early as 600 A.D. and they've been recorded worldwide; this thing isn't limited to the U.S. Incidents of exsanguination were generally presumed to be murders, although no evidence could ever be found to either support or disprove that theory. There are _very few instances of anyone being arrested for or convicted of murder by exsanguination."_

Sara stared at him. "Wait, so basically what you're telling me is that I have absolutely no chance of catching whoever's responsible?"

"Probably not," Gabriel admitted.

"That's ridiculous! I've never given up on a case in my _life, why the hell would I start now?!" Forgetting that there was someone else in the room, Sara brandished the Witchblade. "Besides, how many of THEM had this thing helping them?"_

Gabriel shot her a warning look but not in time – Lyanka saw the bracelet and exclaimed, "Oh! You wear the Witch's Glove!"

There was dead silence as both Gabriel and Sara turned to gape at her.


	10. Connections part 2

**Echoes And Angels**   
_A Witchblade fanfiction by Talismaniactress_

(many thanks to my kind and talented beta-reader Kassiel, and to Trider for title inspiration)

**Author's Note**: My sincerest apologies for taking so long with such a short chapter – I started college this week and so I've had little (if any) time to write fanfics. I will continue to update this, but you guys might have to wait a few days in between chapters instead of my usual daily updates. Sorry!

**Chapter Nine: Connections (part 2)**

"…What?" she said meekly, glancing back and forth between them.

"You know what this is?" Sara asked slowly.

Lyanka shrugged. "It's the bracelet that once belonged to Cathain," she said.

Since the Witchblade was usually recognized as the legendary gauntlet of Joan of Arc, Sara was startled to hear it referred to as Cathain's. It was true, of course, that the warrior goddess had been a Bladewielder, but since few people these days put any stock in ancient goddesses, Cathain wasn't often remembered.

"I'm fascinated by ancient European and Celtic history," Lyanka went on, "so I know about Cathain and the Witchblade. I know that it was supposedly wielded by Joan d'Arc, and I know the legends about it – that it changes forms, that only a chosen woman can wear it. I assumed it was locked away in some museum somewhere; I never expected to see it. Where did you acquire it?" she asked, looking at Sara curiously.

"Ah… long story," Sara said vaguely, glancing at Gabriel. He was still staring at Lyanka. "Well," she went on, slapping her hands down on her knees and standing up, "I think I've got my work cut out for me, so I'm gonna head back to the precinct. Thanks for the help, kid, and it was nice to meet you, Miss Ladaei."

"Oh, don't be ridiculous – call me Lyanka," Lyanka said with a smile.

"Lyanka it is then," Sara said, forcing a smile in return. She hugged Gabriel and left.

As she steered her Buell through the streets, Sara's mind raced, trying to come up with some way to warn Gabriel of what she'd seen in her vision. She had the distinct impression he wasn't going to take kindly to a warning against his new girlfriend, especially if they were that close after only one week. With a pang, Sara realized he probably already trusted that girl more than he trusted Sara herself, and _that hurt. For a moment she felt something tighten in her chest, and she had to work to push back the tears she felt rising. The last thing she needed today was a motorcycle accident caused by cloudy vision._

It was eight thirty by the time she walked back into the office, but Jake and Danny were still there, rubbing eyes sore from too much reading. They glanced up, glad of the distraction as Sara flopped into a chair and sighed.

"Gabriel have any useful information?" Danny asked.

"Only that this… _thing… is worldwide, and goes back almost fifteen hundred years."_

They stared. "You're _kidding," Jake said._

"I wish I was."

"So what do we do now?"

"Keep looking for a connection." **_And hope to god the Witchblade decides to show me something else_**, Sara added mentally.


	11. Introspection

**Echoes And Angels**   
_A Witchblade fanfiction by Talismaniactress_

(many thanks to my kind and talented beta-reader Kassiel, and to Trider for title inspiration)

**Chapter Ten: Introspection**

Gabriel woke in the morning feeling slightly sick. Last night had been interesting, and not least for the startling realization that Lyanka knew about the Witchblade. That had been a surprise, to be sure, but she didn't seem to think there was anything more to the bracelet than legends, so he wasn't worried about it.

No, all in all what bothered Gabriel was Sara's vision. It was bad enough that she hadn't told him about it. Didn't she trust him? He also had a sneaking suspicion that the vision had had something to do with _him. The horrified expression on her face when she had looked at him… He found himself hoping with all his heart that the 'Blade had not chosen to show Sara his feelings for her._

Since the first moment he'd met Sara Pezzini, Gabriel had been fascinated by her. Partly because she was the Witchlade's chosen wielder, of course – but also for the fragile soul he knew she hid beneath her take-no-prisoners attitude. He felt connected to her in a way he had not felt with any other person before.

Over the months, his attraction for her had grown steadily, and until Lyanka had tumbled into his life he had begun to believe he might be in love with Sara. After last night, he knew he had been. But with Lyanka, it felt like… like destiny.

Of course he still cared deeply about Sara. That went without saying. He always would. They were close friends, and he genuinely hoped they always would be. But… if she thought he was romantically interested in her, it might explain the way she had rushed out last night, and the idea that she might be avoiding him now terrified him.

Lyanka had left not long after Sara had, explaining that she had a nine o' clock dinner date with an old friend. They had kissed and parted, leaving Gabriel alone to worry about what had happened. He didn't fall asleep until well after three, though he'd lain in bed for hours.

Thinking about Lyanka made Gabriel long to hear her voice. He had the phone to his ear and his finger poised to dial before he realized that he didn't know her phone number.

"Damn!" he muttered, dropping the receiver into the cradle.

It rang immediately. Startled, Gabriel picked it up. "Hello?"

"Good morning." It was Lyanka.

Gabriel began to laugh. "Okay, now THAT was weird," he said.

"What was?" she asked, confused.

"Never mind." He'd explain it to her later. "How're you doing?"

"Mmmm… Fine, but I miss you already."

He had to smile at that. "I miss you too. How'd dinner go last night?"

"Great. It was good to see Elri again, I haven't seen her for years."

"Got some quality girl-time in, huh?"

She chuckled. "Yep."

"Speaking of dinner – you busy tonight? I close up at 9, but I thought you might like to do something around 9:30."

"That would be _wonderful," she said appreciatively._

"Great," he said. "I've got to get ready to open now, so I've got to go, but I'll see you tonight all right?"

"Sure thing," she answered.

"Great. Until tonight then!"

They hung up.


	12. Secret Suspicions

**Echoes And Angels**   
_A Witchblade fanfiction by Talismaniactress_

(many thanks to my kind and talented beta-reader Kassiel, and to Trider for title inspiration)

**Chapter Eleven: Secret Suspicions**

"Hello, Sara…"

"_Nottingham." Sara's lips tightened. She didn't know what cryptic message Ian Nottingham had in store for her today, but she knew she wasn't in a mood to deal with it._

"…had any dreams lately?" Oh. _That again. Lovely._

"Yeah, Nottingham, actually I have, and I'm still trying to work out what it means. So unless you can give me a straight answer in plain, simple English, I'm hanging up."

Her finger was already halfway to the End Call button when he said, "The ring."

"What?"

"Trust your instincts, Sara. You do not like the girl, though you don't know why. But you have reason. You will find it in the ring."

**_Whatever the hell THAT means…_** Sara thought sourly, but she didn't bother asking. She knew she wouldn't get an answer. "What do you know about Lyanka Ladaei?" she asked instead.

"I know she is nothing she seems."

 "Ya think?"

"I try not to – it tends to hurt."

Sara blinked. Ian Nottingham, _joking?! Now there was something she hadn't expected. "Working on your sense of humor, Ian?"_

"I am making progress, I believe." She could almost see his smirk.

"Whatever, Nottingham."

Again, her finger was halfway to ending the call when he spoke. "She knows about the Witchblade, does she not?"

"You think she's after the Witchblade?"

"Perhaps. But she may also crave something even more powerful."

Sara felt her stomach tighten. "There's something out there more powerful than the Witchblade?"

"The greatest power has always lain within ourselves. Heed my words, Lady Sara. They will keep you safe at night." There was a small click as the line went dead.

Sara cursed loudly as she rubbed her face and leaned her head into her hands. She hated people who wouldn't give straight answers, and Ian Nottingham had probably never given anyone a straight answer in his life. But she couldn't deny the fact that his advice had kept her safe on occasion. At least, once she'd managed to figure out what he'd been talking about.

This time, however, she was less concerned with keeping herself safe than with keeping Gabriel in one piece. She was confident she could handle anything Lyanka threw at her, but Gabriel was so infatuated he probably wouldn't even see it coming. And what the hell could be more powerful than the Witchblade?!

Not for the first time, Sara wondered why her mysterious protector-slash-stalker couldn't be just a _little more specific. Her subconscious answered the question for her: ****__Because then I wouldn't need him to jump in at the last second and save the day…and Ian needs to feel needed. She sighed. ****__Just like me._

That, of course, was the other thing that was bothering her. Sara had grown accustomed to having Gabriel's undivided attention when she visited him, and now someone else had impinged on that. Sara no longer felt as though Gabriel needed her around to talk to; he had found someone else for that. Worse, he'd found another woman. Blinking in surprise, Sara Pezzini realized she was jealous of Lyanka Ladaei.

Time enough to brood on THAT interesting revelation later, however. For now she needed to find out how to keep Gabriel safe. What was it Ian had said? '_You will find it in the ring…'_

Her first thought was of the underground fight club known as the Spartacus Ring, but that had been males-only (which Lyanka _definitely was not) and besides, she, Danny and Jake had closed down their operation not too long ago. So what other ring could Ian possibly have been referring to?_

And then it hit her.

Leaping out of her chair, Sara went to stand in front of her bulletin board, onto which was currently pinned all the relevant case information about Carlais Korskie's murder. And there it was – the ring. The wedding ring, found on the body of a murdered girl, which just so happened to belong to Lyanka Ladaei.

 Sara took down every photograph they had shot of the ring and brought them back to her desk to examine them under her lamp. Straining her eyes, she looked for any detail that might provide a clue about its owner. It took her more than twenty minutes, but she finally spotted the tiny script woven into the vine pattern inside the band. What did it say? She pulled out a magnifying glass. _Angharad of Avalon._

Without a last name, Sara knew she'd have no luck running a background check, and that left only one person to call.

"You've reached Talismaniac – purveyors of the exotic, erotic, and eso—"

"Gabriel, it's Sara."

"Sara!" Was it wishful thinking, or did he sound happier than usual? "What can I do for you?"

"Does the name Angharad of Avalon mean anything to you?"

"It, ah, sounds vaguely familiar, but I can't think of anything off the top of my head… why?"

"I'm not sure yet, but could you do me a huge favor and find out anything you can about her?"

"Uh, sure, I'll see what I can do. But I might not get to it today. It's been busy this morning, I've got a couple buyers coming in this afternoon, and I've got a dinner date tonight with Lyanka."

Oh. Of course. "Well, just get me whatever you can find as soon as you can." She ignored the nasty little voice in the back of her mind that said, **_Before she__ came along, he would have dropped everything to help you…_**  "Thanks, Gabriel," she added.

"No problem. Hey Sara?"

"Yeah?"

"We're still cool, right? I mean, you're not mad at me or anything?"

She frowned. "Why would I be mad at you?"

"Well, I dunno… I was just kinda wondering, after the way you left in such a hurry last night."

"Oh, no that had nothing to do with you, Gabriel. Don't worry about it. Absolutely we're still cool."

"All right. Just thought I'd check. Anyways I've gotta go, there's a customer who needs to talk to me. I'll check up on 'Angharad' and get back to you soon, all right?"

"Sure thing. Thanks again, kid."


	13. Romance

**Echoes And Angels**   
_A Witchblade fanfiction by Talismaniactress_

(many thanks to my kind and talented beta-reader Kassiel, and to Trider for title inspiration)

"…he'd moved like music, like someone dancing to a rhythm inside his head. And his face for a moment in the moonlight was the skull of an angel…" –Terry Pratchett

**Chapter Twelve: Romance**

It was nine thirty on the nose when Gabriel stepped out of his car, straightened his satin dress shirt, smoothed back his hair, then brushed the imaginary dust from his trousers. He took a deep breath to calm himself before ringing Lyanka's bell. He didn't know why he was so nervous – he certainly had no reason to be. He already knew she liked him, and she had no parents to worry about impressing. This _was technically their first date however, and Gabriel was determined that it would be a night to remember._

The door opened almost immediately, and Gabriel's breath caught in his throat. "Ah, uhm, hi, you… you look… WOW!"

Lyanka was the proverbial Lady in Red. The gown she wore accentuated curves Gabriel hadn't even been aware existed. Her face was flawless and her thick golden hair had been curled and swept into a complicated up-do. The effect was that she didn't really look like Lyanka – she looked more like… like Lyanka perfected. And she was very, _very beautiful. _

"Wow," he said again.

She smiled somewhat shyly and accepted the long-stemmed red rose he'd brought her. "Thank you," she said quietly. Even her voice sounded different, Gabriel thought. Sweeter, richer, more… more _something. "So where are we going?" she asked._

"It's a surprise," he replied with a bit of a smirk.

She cocked an eyebrow. "Oh, I see." Gabriel gave her a long kiss and then held her door open and helped her into the car. "Such a gentleman, you are," she teased lightly.

"One of the Old School," Gabriel shot back with a wink. She laughed. "I guess it's just a by-product of living in the past," he added.

Lyanka looked at him curiously and said, "You think you live in the past?"

"Don't you think I do?"

"Not as much as some people," she told him fervently. The rest of the drive passed in silence – a comfortable, companionable silence.

Finally Gabriel parked the car and came around to Lyanka's door to open it for her.

"I'm beginning to feel overdressed," she admitted, noting that they had arrived at Gabriel's apartment instead of at a restaurant as she had expected.

"Hold that thought for a few minutes," Gabriel told her. They climbed slowly up the three flights of stairs. The hallway was unusually dark and quiet, as if they two were the only ones in the building, though Lyanka knew that wasn't the case.

When they reached Gabriel's door he turned to her, grinning, and said, "Close your eyes."

"What?" she asked, startled.

"Go on, close 'em. I told you it was a surprise."

Shrugging lightly, she obeyed. There was a soft click and a rush of air as Gabriel opened the door, and then his hands on her hips, guiding her safely through before he closed it again. "_Now you can look," he said._

She did. "Oh, Gabriel…" Lyanka didn't even try to hide her amazement and delight.

The living room had been cleared of all the furniture and relics that ordinarily occupied it. What furniture couldn't be removed had been pushed against the walls and out of the way, to be hidden beneath dark red velvet drapes. Red rose petals had been scattered everywhere. Every available flat surface was covered with white candles, giving the scene a sparkling, surreal glow. A small round table stood alone in the middle of the room, set for two.

"What do you think?" Gabriel asked softly. "Still feel overdressed?"

"It's… oh, Gabriel, it's beautiful."

"You're crying," he said, alarmed, tilting her chin up so she looked him in the eye. Her eyes were bright with tears.

"I'm sorry," she said in a choked voice. "I didn't want to spoil this. But… no one has ever done anything like this for me, not ever. I've lived, Gabriel. I've seen so many things – I didn't think I could _be surprised any longer."_

"Stick around," he told her, wrapping his arms around her and holding her close.

She laughed through her tears. "And there you go surprising me again. Usually when I say that, I get some condescending comment about 'how much could I possibly have lived in only twenty years?'" she mimicked sarcastically.

Gabriel let out a bark of laughter. "I'm older than you are, and I've got fifty bucks says you've lived ten times more than I _ever will."_

"You'd win that one," Lyanka said, nodding sadly.

"Do I ever get to hear about this mysterious past of yours?" he asked quietly, tilting her chin up again.

A final tear slid down her cheek. "Someday," she whispered.

Slowly, so slowly the movement was almost imperceptible, Gabriel bent his head and kissed her. Her skin was cold, but her tongue was warm against his, and the kiss deepened as Gabriel slid his arms around her waist and pulled her closer. Before long they moved into the bedroom, dinner forgotten entirely.

It was still dark when Gabriel awoke hours later. He started to stretch and turn over but stopped when he realized Lyanka was still lying curled against his shoulder. He gazed tenderly at her sleeping face for a long moment before he kissed her forehead. "I love you," he murmured. Carefully he extracted himself from the bed and drew on sweatpants. Padding barefooted into the living room, he switched on his computer and sat down in the chair to wait for it to boot up.


	14. Reminiscence & Explanations

**Echoes And Angels**   
_A Witchblade fanfiction by Talismaniactress_

(many thanks to my kind and talented beta-reader Kassiel, and to Trider for title inspiration)

**Chapter Thirteen: Reminiscence**

It was raining. Hard.

Across the square from Sara Pezzini's loft, a very wet Ian Nottingham perched on a fire escape and watched Sara's window. The four a.m. darkness did not prevent his hawk-like eyes from seeing every move the detective made in her apartment.

What would she think if she knew he was out here now, watching her?

Silly question. She'd be furious, of course. Or perhaps disgusted. Sometimes Ian had a hard time distinguishing the difference, with her. It hurt him to know that his actions made her so angry. On the other hand, it would hurt him considerably more to see anything happen to her, and that of course was why he was here. Ian Nottingham knew better than most the sort of violence Lyanka Ladaei was capable of, and he was ready to bet that Sara was not prepared to deal with it. She was trying to protect her little friend Gabriel instead of protecting herself.

Ian, on the other hand, did not care one whit about Gabriel Bowman's safety. It was the Wielder, and the Wielder alone, whom he sought to protect.

Across the square, he watched her stare angrily at pictures and facts spread across her kitchen table. He knew she still had not found the connection between the mysterious deaths… but she would. She was close now.

Inside the loft, Sara, dressed for bed, flopped onto her couch. Even after another day of research and phone calls, she still had not found the link between the murders. It was frustrating. She had, however, had an interesting chat with the homicide detective who had been in charge of the last case.

Thinking back to it, Sara realized she had been naïve to think that she was the first detective to have put two and two together about the strange murders. Even the most standard investigation would have turned up dozens of cases in nearby states alone, and any decent detective would have seen the connection and hunted down more. To imagine that other older and wiser police officers had failed to see what was right in front of them was nothing short of egotistical, and she was almost embarrassed to admit that she had first assumed so.

It had last happened seven years ago, in California. There had been a serial killer at work in L.A. The killer had been posed on the verge of becoming infamous – the first news stories about him had just begun to run on local television channels – when the precinct's number one suspect turned up dead… apparently of nothing. No marks anywhere, but no blood either. The serial killings stopped, and when no other mysterious deaths occurred the media quickly lost interest.

The detective, whose name was Kaizen Shuichi, had told Sara a disappointingly familiar story of digging up past cases and searching futilely for new clues. When absolutely no connection had been found, Shuichi had been forced to close down the investigation. He told her the same thing had happened to the man working the last case before his. Shuichi was downright bitter about it; it was the only thing marring his otherwise-perfect record. Sara could commiserate. She had failed to solve cases in the past, but never since acquiring the Witchblade. She would be royally pissed if this turned out to be the first.

With a frown, Sara launched herself up off the couch. She felt restless, irritated, _awake. She had already picked up the phone before she thought to look at the clock – four a.m. Damn. Nobody sane would be conscious at this hour._

On the other hand, somebody _insane might._

She hesitated only briefly before dialing the number.

*   *   *   *   *   *   *   *

**Chapter 14: Explanations**

Gabriel nearly fell out of his chair when the shrill ring of the telephone shattered his quiet concentration. Fortunately his reflexes were quick and he picked up before it was even halfway through the first ring. For a moment he held his breath, hoping it hadn't woken Lyanka up.

It hadn't, and an urgent, "Hello?" reminded him that phones did not ring all by themselves.

"Hello?" he answered quietly.

"Gabriel, why are you whispering?"

"Oh, Sara. Hold on just a sec." He tiptoed into another room and closed the door behind him before answering her in a normal voice. "Sorry about that. I didn't want to wake her up."

"Wake who – _oh." It was amazing, Gabriel thought, how much dawning comprehension could be conveyed in a simple, two-letter word._

"Yeah," he said. "She's, um… she's still here."

"I _see." Her tone made Gabriel wonder what exactly it was she was seeing. "Well," she said briskly as she quickly changed tactics, "I hope I didn't wake you up?"_

He grinned lopsidedly. "Come on, you oughtta know me better than that by now. When have I ever been asleep when you've called me at four in the morning?"

"We-ell… never," she admitted. She sighed. "I can't sleep, Gabriel, this case is driving me berserk! I guess I was just wondering if you might have had time to check on Angharad yet."

"Actually," Gabriel told her, "I was just finishing up on that when you called. Can I ask why we're curious about her?"

"Oh, no particular reason," Sara said, dodging the question. "I just thought it might help with a lead."

"You're joking, right?"

"Of course."

Gabriel knew she was lying but let it slide. "According to several ancient European legends, Angharad of Avalon is the original vampire," he said.

"_WHAT?!"_

"Supposedly it was a curse placed on her by Morgaine le Fay – also known as Rhiannon or Myfanwy – who was King Arthur's sister, and a great sorceress. Angharad was a Daughter of the Holy Isle of Avalon, a priestess of the Old Religion, just like Morgaine. The legends can't quite agree on what she did to tick Morgaine off, but apparently she did… and the curse of eternal life was Morgaine's revenge. I can't seem to find anything more than that, though," he added.

There was a very long silence as all that sank in.

"The thing that's bugging me," Gabriel went on, "is that I _know I've heard the name somewhere recently, and I can't for the life of me think where!" When there was still no answer on the other end, he said, "Sara?"_

There was a click as the line went dead.

Staring at the receiver in his hand and wondering what he'd said wrong, Gabriel hung up the phone and shut down his computer. A few moments later he climbed back into his bed beside Lyanka, who murmured something, turned over, and threw a leg across him. **_Must not be used to sharing a bed_**, Gabriel thought with a grin. He put an arm around her and nestled into her shoulder… but it was still a long while before he drifted off to sleep.


	15. Visionary

**Echoes And Angels**   
_A Witchblade fanfiction by Talismaniactress_

(many thanks to my kind and talented beta-reader Kassiel, and to Trider for title inspiration)

**Chapter Fifteen: Visionary**

Sara sat frozen on her couch, the phone to her ear. She had not heard Gabriel calling her name. She saw and heard nothing. Instead, she found herself suddenly gripped in the throes of an especially violent Witchblade vision.

She was falling, and images were flying past almost faster than she could see them, combining into one great whirling blur. It was almost like – how did they put it? Like watching your life flash before your eyes. Except that… Sara tried to focus on the images around her. Yes, the same figure appeared in all of them. She was watching someone _else's life flash before her eyes!_

At that moment she caught sight of what was below her, the ground toward which she was hurtling so rapidly. A tiny patch of green, growing larger by the second, and two tiny dots… As the forested hillside rushed upwards to meet her, Sara screamed.

And then blinked. She was standing in a field of grass along the shoreline of a lake. Before her stood the two dots, which were no longer dots but women, dressed in richly embroidered robes. She felt no pain, no sensation of having stopped very quickly. There was nothing to indicate that she had just fallen several thousand feet.

Instinctively she glanced upwards, and saw that the sky above them was roiling with black clouds and shot with the occasional bolt of lightning. Thunder rolled across the wooded hills and out over the lake to her right. A wind had sprung up, tossing her hair into her face, and whipping the women's robes about them like great wings.

"I'm sorry, Morgaine!" one wailed. Half of Sara's mind acknowledged the fact that the language being spoken was not English, but something far more ancient than she could imagine. The other half argued that she could understand it perfectly well, so what did it matter?

"Sorry?" the dark-haired one demanded, spitting out the word as if it tasted foul. "What do I care of your sorrow? No amount of sorrow will ever bring back the lives you took!" She raised an arm and pointed at the other figure. "I curse you, Angharad of Avalon!" she screamed above the rising wind. "For your lack of faith in the Goddess, and for your disrespect for life, I curse you – you shall not die! Until you have learned what it is your destiny to know, you shall watch those around you crumble to dust while you live on!

"By the power of the Lady," she cried, raising her arms to heaven so that her robes fell back and revealed a startlingly familiar bracelet on her wrist, "and the power of her Lord, you are cursed! As I will it, so must it be!" A suitably dramatic bolt of lightning threw the scene into sharp relief, etching it to the backs of Sara's eyes. 

With a gasp, Sara realized who Angharad was. "Oh, no…"

"As punishment," Morgaine continued, "you are banished from the shores of Avalon. Never again shall you pass through the sacred mists!"

Sara saw the woman – girl, really, she couldn't have been more than sixteen – fall to her knees in the long grass and let out a horrible cry. "_NO, Morgaine!" But the mists were already closing about her, white tentacles that seemed to wrap themselves around her body. Then they began to drag her backwards as she kicked and screamed and pleaded for Morgaine's forgiveness. _

The other Wielder merely watched her go with a stony expression. Not until Angharad had reached the far shore of the lake did Morgaine turn, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs, and disappear into the trees.

Sara looked back across the misty lake to where Angharad knelt on the far shore, beating her fists into the wet sand, her damp hair tangled by the wind, her face streaked with tears. "_Morgaine!" she wailed, her voice full of despair._

Suddenly the images were blurring past again. Perhaps it was only because she knew what to look for, but this time Sara caught glimpses of individual images as they rushed by. There was Angharad, walking through a busy Indian street market; at the same time, Sara saw her in a dark alleyway, her mouth on the throat of a rough sailor; she saw her in medieval London, praying in a cathedral.

And then Sara stopped abruptly for a second time. She found herself standing in an autumn clearing, surrounded by the slender silver trunks of leaf-bare birch trees. The sky above was overcast and the ground beneath her feet was thick with leaves. Somewhere to her right, she caught the sound of someone approaching.

Through the trees came Angharad, dressed in a long cloak and a red-gold gown whose style Sara's memory placed as Renaissance. The girl's footsteps made no sound, but the long skirt of her dress rustled the dry leaves around her. She reached the place where Sara stood and stopped, peering about her as if looking for something. A moment later she saw them – two more figures approaching from the other side of the clearing. The taller one was supporting the other, who stooped and walked with a limp. As they approached, Sara noticed that the stooping man wore the black robe and traditional white collar of a cleric. **_What are they doing in a forest with a priest?_** she wondered as her attention turned to the second man. She gasped.

A few years younger, and he could have been Gabriel Bowman's identical twin.

Sara had to bite her tongue hard to keep from laughing aloud at the sight of Gabriel Bowman in tights. _There was something she was never going to forget. Her amusement faded, however, as the young man left the priest's side to embrace Angharad. When she saw him lean in to kiss the girl, Sara averted her eyes – her stomach was churning enough without having to watch __that. After a very long moment the priest coughed, and Sara sneaked a peek to see if it was safe. It wasn't, but Sara couldn't make herself look away again. Her jaw dropped._

She had never seen anyone kiss like that.

Finally the priest coughed again, louder, and the pair broke the kiss.

"Our wedding awaits, my love," the young man said with a grin. He even sounded like Gabriel, even if he was speaking French.

Together, he and Angharad turned to the priest, and Sara realized what was happening. They were eloping. Presumably someone had forbidden one of them to marry the other. Probably the Gabriel lookalike, Sara speculated, since she doubted anyone lived who had ever tried to tell Angharad what she could or could not do. So they had snuck out here to be married in secret.

Sara watched, tight-lipped, as the priest performed the wedding ceremony. When it was over, the young man leaned his head toward his new wife and said something Sara suspected only she and Angharad could hear: "I love you, Catiane de Nuitienne, Angharad of Avalon, whoever you are, my beautiful vampire."

Sara nearly shouted in astonishment, but the images were flying past once again. Once more she was falling. This time she was not surprised when she stopped in Central Park, beneath an all-too-familiar willow tree beside a pond. There stood Angharad, glowing ghostly in the predawn light, wearing a peasant blouse and a rose-colored velvet skirt. And there, across the grass, came Carlais Korskie.

Sara watched in horrified fascination as Angharad opened her arms to the approaching girl. There was such compassion in her face, such love. Tenderly she stroked Carlais' cheek. Tears slipped out of Carlais' eyes as she gazed at Angharad in dazed adoration. "Thank you," she whispered.

Angharad then embraced her, opening her mouth on Carlais' throat, and for a moment Sara thought she was going to be sick. Carlais simply closed her eyes and smiled blissfully. Gradually the color vanished from her skin along with her blood, and Sara watched as Angharad laid the body gently at the foot of the willow tree.

Then she did a curious thing. She slit her wrist with her teeth and allowed her blood to flow over the teeth marks on Carlais' neck. In seconds, both the blood and the marks had vanished. Angharad stood, and Sara was astonished to see that she was crying. She stared at the body for a long moment and then strode off across the dewy morning grass.

Slowly Sara stepped close to the body, and stared down at the ring Angharad had dropped in the grass. It glittered innocently in the gray light… and then the images were flying past once more.

With a soft flump, Sara landed spread-eagled in her own bed. For a long moment, all she could do was stare at the ceiling. She raised her right arm to her face and watched the fiery swirl of the Witchblade fade to its ordinary placid red. With a sigh she wondered how she was going to explain this one…


	16. Food Fight!

**Echoes And Angels**   
_A Witchblade fanfiction by Talismaniactress_

(many thanks to my kind and talented beta-reader Kassiel, and to Trider for title inspiration)

**Chapter Sixteen: Food Fight!**

It was the warm sunlight that finally woke Lyanka from her sleep. With great effort she opened bleary eyes and stretched languidly. When her eyes had adjusted to the morning brilliance, she sat up. The bedclothes were still mussed from the previous night, and she was alone in the room, but not alone in the apartment, she noted as the smell of cooking reached her nose. Wrapping one of the sheets around herself, she climbed out of bed and went to investigate.

Gabriel turned when he heard her come into the kitchen. She was back to looking like her ordinary self again – hair tangled, makeup smudged about her eyes, looking all skinny elbows as she stood there in a sheet. Despite that, he still found her infinitely beautiful.

"Good morning," he said with a smile, leaning away from the pans warming on the stove to kiss her.

"Mmmm, good morning to you too," she replied. "What are you heating?"

"Well," he said, grinning sheepishly, "I wasn't counting on you still being here this morning, so I'm afraid there isn't much in the way of breakfast food except a lot of coffee and maybe some stale Rice Krispies in the cabinet. But since we never got around to dinner last night," he said as his smile turned downright mischievous, "I can offer you your choice of chicken parmigiana, beef stir fry, or baked salmon with white sauce."

"You _cook?" Lyanka said incredulously._

"Yep," Gabriel admitted. "Self-defense mechanism. After I moved out, it was either learn or starve, and since it always impressed the girls…"

"You're incorrigible," she told him, poking him playfully in the ribs.

"Darn right," he retorted, and kissed her again. "You still haven't answered my question," he added.

"It all sounds good," she laughed, "but I'll take the salmon."

"Excellent choice," Gabriel said, and set to work.

Lyanka watched him for a few minutes and then asked, "What can I do to help?"

"Don't be ridiculous. I'm cooking for you." He gave her a mock-stern look. "You are going to relax and enjoy a lazy morning. Find a movie to watch, or something," he said, gesturing toward the television in the living room.

"But I wanna help!" she whined playfully.

Gabriel grinned, leaned over, and planted a spoonful of cream right on her nose. "No!" he said firmly. Lyanka squealed indignantly and grabbed the first thing off the counter that her hand found – a half lemon – and squashed it on _his nose. She had just begun to grin triumphantly when Gabriel retaliated by dumping an entire bowl of melted butter right over the top of her head._

He laughed while she shrieked and sputtered, her hair dripping, until she grabbed a fistful of flour and flung it at him. For a moment the air was filled with a cloud of white dust.

"_Oh," came the low sound of his voice, "so you wanna play it like __that, huh?" And Lyanka found an egg yolk being squashed against her cheek._

"Oohhhhh," she growled, "it's _on now!" She picked up a nearby pot of lukewarm coffee, dashed it full in his face, and ducked. She managed a complicated sideways crab-walk out of the kitchen just as a handful of ice cream flew past her head and hit the far wall – Gabriel had reached the freezer._

Lyanka hid behind the corner and waited for him to step cautiously out of the kitchen. When he did, she emptied the saltshaker over his head. He retaliated with a second handful of ice cream to the face.

They were so busy chasing each other about the apartment and laughing madly that they never heard the phone ring. When Lyanka finally realized that someone was leaving a voice message, she stopped and put a finger to her lips.

"—and it's _really important that I talk to you __very soon, so if you could give me a call back as soon as you get this—"_

It took Gabriel a moment to recognize Sara's voice. When he did, he made a dash for the phone. "Sara?" he said urgently. "Sara, are you there?" There was only a click as the line went dead. "Damn," he muttered, tossing the slice of salmon he'd been holding into the kitchen sink. "Wonder what that was about." He hesitated a moment and then, glancing at Lyanka, put the phone back in its receiver.

Lyanka could see his playful mood had evaporated. She gave him a long stare, and then a curious smile spread over her face. "You… love her, don't you?" she asked quietly.

"No!" he exclaimed immediately. When she continued to look at him, he sighed. "Yes," he admitted. "I do. But NOT the way I love you!" he added.

"You sure about that?"

"I think I would know!" he said, frowning. For a long moment she said nothing, and Gabriel began to squirm. "You're not going to go all, you know, _weird on me now, are you?" he asked, worry in his voice._

Lyanka smiled again. "No weirder than I am on a regular basis," she promised. Then her expression turned solemn. "Do you love me, Gabriel?"

Gabriel crossed the room to her and took her face in his hands, wiping away some of the egg yolk left on her cheek. "I do love you, Lyanka Ladaei," he said seriously.

She gave him another long, searching look, and then, apparently satisfied with whatever she'd seen in his eyes, said, "Then I want you to have this."

Into his hand she dropped her ring.

"I can't take this—" Gabriel began, shocked.

"Oh, but you can," she said. "And I want you to. Really," she added firmly, when he continued to protest. "Keep it as… something to remember me by.

"Now," she went on briskly, "I'm going to go hop in the shower and leave you alone while you finish breakfast, if there's anything left that hasn't been plastered all over the walls." She gave him a broad grin and disappeared into the next room, leaving Gabriel standing and staring at the ring in his hand.

*   *   *   *   *   *   *   *

For once, Ian Nottingham was not stalking Sara Pezzini.

He _was occupying his usual perch on a fire escape, but the focus of his current attention was not the Bladewielder. For the moment he was after a younger, blonder quarry._

He watched as the girl kissed the young artifacts dealer goodbye and wandered off down the sidewalk. The moment she'd gone past, he dropped silently to the pavement and kept pace behind her as she walked.

He knew the instant she became aware of his presence, mostly because he suddenly found himself at knifepoint.

"Who are you and why—" she began, and stopped, eyes widening, when she recognized him. "_You!" she hissed._

"Me," Ian said with a mocking smile.

"What do you want? I told Irons I'm not working for him again."

"Mr. Irons understands your reluctance to become… involved. I am not here on his behalf."

"Then what do you want?"

"I want you to leave," he said simply.

"Excuse me?!"

"The Wielder is on your trail. She will find you soon. When she does, one of you will die – and I have sworn to make certain it is not the Wielder. Perhaps you could handle Sara Pezzini alone, but I doubt you would hold us both off for long.

"In light of our, ah, _past dealings," Ian continued, "I give you fair warning – flee now, or you shall face the consequences. You have nothing to stay for."_

"I have one thing to stay for, I have—"

"Would you like one less?"

Lyanka felt a hot lump of fear grow in her stomach. "You wouldn't," she gasped, horrified.

"To keep you away from the Wielder?" Ian leaned down until his face was less than an inch from hers. "Watch me," he said levelly.


	17. Final Answers

**Echoes And Angels**   
_A Witchblade fanfiction by Talismaniactress_

(many thanks to my kind and talented beta-reader Kassiel, and to Trider for title inspiration)

**Author's Note**: My sincerest apologies for the huge delay in getting this chapter posted! My poor beta reader was having huge computer issues and only just got the chapter back to me. I'll try not to let it happen again!

**Chapter Seventeen: Final Answers**

Sara sat at her desk and looked disconsolately at the phone in her hand. Why wasn't Gabriel answering his phone? It was three o' clock in the afternoon and he ought to have been at work hours ago. But there was no answer either at the Talismaniac or at his home, and his cell phone had been turned off.

She couldn't shake her vision of Gabriel's stabbing. What if _that girl had done something to him? What if he was too hurt to answer the phone? What if he was lying somewhere unconscious?_

…what if he was dead?

A knock on the door shook Sara from her morbid thoughts. Climbing out of her chair, she padded across the floor to answer it. 

"Ms. Pezzini?" It was Lyanka. Sara stared. "We need to talk."

"Yeah," Sara said slowly. "Yeah, we do." She allowed Lyanka to step past her into the room and shut the door. "What have you done with him?" she demanded without ceremony.

For a moment Lyanka stared at her, confused. "Who?"

"Gabriel!" Sara snapped. "Why isn't he answering my calls? What did you do to him?" Her voice grew louder and more furious with each question.

To her great surprise, Lyanka merely smiled. "I haven't done anything to Gabriel," she said quietly. "If I had the choice, I would never hurt him. But I'm going to have to, and that's why I've come to see you."

"I'm not going to let you hurt him."

"You don't have a choice either," said Lyanka with a sad smile. She heaved a deep sigh. "I am going to tell you something, and I need you to believe me, even though it's going to sound quite insane."

"You're a vampire," Sara said flatly.

Lyanka grinned humorlessly. "Not a vampire," she said. "_The_ vampire."

"What?"

"I'm the first, the original. Hell, the _only!_" She sighed. "I found that if others drank my blood, my curse would pass to them, and they would become vampires as well. I have made more than a few such fledglings, over the centuries. But the curse only lasts until you're fated to die. Everyone has a finite amount of time set out for them, and when their time comes, they'll die, curse or no curse. They may stop growing old, but they'll still die at age seventy-two if that's what's meant to be."

Sara didn't want to think about that. "Except for you, apparently."

Lyanka's expression became infinitely sad. "Yes," she said. "Except for me."

"How did it happen?" Sara asked softly. "I mean, I know Morgaine placed the curse on you—" Lyanka stared at her in surprise, but when Sara glanced pointedly at the Witchblade on her wrist, she subsided. "But why? Why was Morgaine so upset?"

"It's a long story," Lyanka sighed, "but it essentially boils down to the fact that I used magic to kill her lover." Sara's eyebrows shot up, and Lyanka nodded. "Let me back up a bit.

"Morgaine and I grew up together in Avalon, studying under Viviane, the Lady of the Lake. We were great friends, but after she turned sixteen and passed her final ordeal to become a Priestess of Avalon, she grew distant. She used to disappear for hours or even days at a time, and would never tell me where she went. It hurt me deeply that suddenly my best friend didn't seem to want anything to do with me, and so I began spending my time either alone or with my older brother, Sir Lachanor, a knight under young King Arthur who had come to Avalon on a quest. We grew close, and gradually his friendship replaced Morgaine's in my heart.

"Things continued like that for three years, until I had turned sixteen and become a Priestess myself. Only full-fledged priestesses were allowed to leave the Holy Isle. After I passed my own ordeal, I took to leaving Avalon on long rides down the coast. It was as I was returning from one of those rides that I reached the shores of Avalon and found a knight standing with his lance through my brother's chest.

"I called out a spell that flung him backwards, away from my brother, and I raced to Lachanor's side. I was too late, of course; he was already dead. When I realized it, something snapped inside. I had a fiery temper even at the best of times in those days, and the murder of my brother was more than enough to send me over the edge. I'm still not entirely sure what exactly I did to the other knight. All I remember is anger and despair, and when my head finally cleared Morgaine was kneeling there with the dead knight in her arms, screaming at me that I had killed him.

"It turned out that he had been Morgaine's lover, and the reason for her long disappearances. Of course I'd had no way of knowing that, but that wasn't the point. The point was that I had broken the first and most important rule of my life as a priestess of Avalon – I had used my power to harm another. I had used my power to kill. If it had been any other knight it might have been Viviane who dealt out my punishment, but as it was Morgaine whom I had wronged, it was she who set my fate.

"She laid a curse on me that I could not die until I had learned my lesson, until I had righted the wrong I had done her. That alone might not have been so horrible, but she also cursed me with the necessity to kill to survive. For many years I believed that I would never be able to redeem myself, that I would simply continue on to the very end of the world and perhaps even beyond. But gradually I came to learn from my actions and from the actions of those around me. I learned love, and hate, and respect, and even humility to some degree.

"Perhaps some day I will learn whatever it is I am fated to know. Even when I think I have learned it all, someone surprises me by teaching me something new. Like your Gabriel," she finished with a small chuckle.

"Which brings us back to the question of what are you planning to do to him?" Sara asked archly, ignoring the reference to Gabriel as 'hers.'

Lyanka gave her a sad, gentle smile. "I'm going to break his heart," she said softly.

Sara's jaw dropped. "Is that all?" she exclaimed, relief washing over her.

"_All?!_" Lyanka stared at her. "You of all people should know that's a pretty big 'all!'"

It took Sara a moment to realize that the other woman had misunderstood her. "Oh, of course it is," she said hastily. "It's just… I thought… well, to be honest I thought you were going to kill him."

"Ah." Lyanka nodded. "I might have done, once. Your determined little guard dog," and her tone left Sara in no doubt whatsoever about who she meant, "threatened his life if I did not leave. Once upon a time I might have killed him and the guard dog both, but not now. No. No, I am leaving tomorrow; my flight is already booked and my bags are already packed."

"So what's that got to do with me?" Sara asked, confused.

To her surprise Lyanka took her hands in hers. "He loves you, Sara Pezzini," she said seriously. "He'll need you when I'm gone. Be there for him."


	18. Not All Tears

**Echoes And Angels**   
_A Witchblade fanfiction by Talismaniactress_

**Author's Note**: After a delay of a year and a half, here FINALLY is the last chapter and the epilogue. It's dedicated to magicks, who saw where this fic was going from the very beginning. I hope you all enjoy it.

"I will not tell you, 'Do not weep,' for not all tears are an evil." –Gandalf, The Lord of the Rings: Return of the King

**Chapter Eighteen: Not All Tears**

It took Sara less than thirty minutes to get from her loft to Gabriel's apartment after Lyanka left. She banged loudly on the door several times before it occurred to her to try the handle, and to her amazement it was actually unlocked. "Gabriel?" she called hesitantly as she stepped into his living room.

The curtains were pulled shut and the lamps were turned off, throwing the room into a deep gloom. It took Sara a few moments to locate her young friend; he sat in his armchair, facing a dead computer screen, turning something over and over in his hand and staring blankly into space.

"Gabriel?" she said again, softer, and took another step toward him.

"She's gone."

"What?" Sara stopped, startled.

"Lyanka. She's gone."

"I—how did you know?"

"She was here a moment ago." His voice sounded utterly monotone and lifeless.

"She was _here?_ But she couldn't have been, she was—" Sara stopped again, realizing that she had just said that a fifteen-hundred-year-old vampire couldn't move faster than she herself could. "What happened?" she asked instead.

"I assume you know everything?" he asked. When Sara nodded, he snorted bitterly and went on, "I realized who she was this afternoon. She gave me this," and he held up the thing he'd been turning about; it was Lyanka's wedding ring, "but I didn't really look at it until after she'd left. And then I realized where I'd heard the name Angharad of Avalon recently." He tossed the ring into the air, and Sara's hand shot out almost automatically and caught it. "It's inscribed on the band," Gabriel told her.

Sara had to squint hard to make out the tiny script in the dark room, but there it was – _Angharad of Avalon_.

"I was so hurt and afraid that when she knocked on my door this evening, I didn't even give her a chance to say anything. I just went off on her, about how could she lie to me and what the hell was she and what did she want from me because of course she must want something. Heaven forbid that a vampire should fall in love." He sighed bitterly. "She just stood there and looked at me until I was done ranting at her. For a second, I—I almost thought she was going to cry. But she just said, 'I'm sorry,' and kissed me on the cheek and… and left. Something told me I wasn't going to see her again. I'm not, am I?"

"No," Sara admitted. She sighed and pulled a chair up beside him. "Look, Gabriel, I'm sorry—"

"Don't apologize," Gabriel said, launching himself suddenly out of his chair and going to the window. "It wasn't your fault."

Sara followed him and laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. "I know it wasn't, kiddo, but—"

"_AND WOULD YOU STOP CALLING ME KIDDO!" Gabriel bellowed suddenly, whirling to face Sara with a furious expression on his face._

Sara, taken completely aback by the uncharacteristic outburst, gaped at him.

"I am NOT a child," he went on heatedly, "so for God's sake will you stop treating me like one?!"

"…sorry," she said meekly, still staring.

To her shock, tears began sliding down his cheeks. "I'm so _fucking confused." The plaintive words tore from his throat in a near growl; Sara's heart twisted in sympathy and she had to work to keep herself from putting her arms around him and trying to comfort him. She told herself sternly that he'd only take it as another childish gesture, and besides, what on Earth could she say? By the way, sorry the love of your life just ditched you? She thought about how she'd have reacted if someone had said that to her after Daniel had died, and found it suddenly less difficult to bite the words back._

"I don't—I don't know what to say," she said instead, looking out the window without seeing the view. "You know I've never been much for all this emotion crap. But…" She swallowed, hard, and continued. "I've lost people, Gabriel. People I loved. A lot. And it hurts, and maybe you want someone to blame and take your anger out on, or maybe you want someone to run to who will make the hurt all better – but life's too damn contrary for that." Turning back to face him, she finished quietly, "In the end, the healing's gotta come from inside. Not from anywhere else." With a relief she'd never have admitted to, she saw the corner of his mouth tug sideways in the beginnings of a smile.

"You're pretty smart sometimes, you know that?" he sighed, scrubbing the dried tears from his face and running his hands through his hair. "But only sometimes," he added, his smile widening.

"Oh, well, how big of you to admit it." Sara rolled her eyes, but couldn't help grinning in response.

"Yeah, I know." This time Gabriel's smile even reached his eyes. "So what are you doing here, anyway? I'm assuming you didn't come by just to flaunt your superior intellect – although come to think of it, it sounds like something you would do… ow!" he squeaked as her leather-gloved fist hit his shoulder.

She glared at him, all her will concentrated on keeping her mouth from twitching into a smile. "Jerk."

"Only when I wanna be."

His smug expression made Sara's eyes narrow. "_Men_," she muttered, as if it were a curse word.

"So you're finally admitting I'm a man and not a kid?"

If she'd been better with the "emotional crap" as she called it, Sara might have picked up on the undertones to the question and thought harder about her answer to it. As it was, her flippant, "Not on your life!" did not get the reaction she'd expected.

Stepping forward, Gabriel caught her around the waist and, in one swift movement, kissed her. Quite thoroughly. A lot more thoroughly than she could ever remember being kissed before, in fact. **_Whoa_**, part of her brain put in dimly. Apparently Lyanka hadn't been kidding when she'd said Gabriel loved her. **_Someone forgot to deliver a memo somewhere…_** This was not at all where she'd wanted this conversation to go.

Or was it? Another part of her brain, the very, very small part that was not currently occupied with missing memos or Gabriel's mouth and hands, said snidely, **_Why did you think you were so jealous of Lyanka?_** But that was ridiculous, of course. She hadn't been jealous of Lyanka. She'd been suspicious of her because of the Witchblade vision, sure, and because she'd been trying to protect Gabriel, and because of Ian's warning, and… **_Don't be stupid, Sara. You were jealous and you know it. You admitted it to yourself, remember? Jealous that once upon a time, Gabriel would have dropped everything to help you, but when Lyanka came along you were shunted back to second place in his life. Ever stop to think about why that made you so angry?_**

It was a rhetorical question; she hadn't thought about it at all. Why should she have? He was seven years her junior, he was just a kid, it was instinctive to protect him— **_Ahhh, but that's the key, isn't it? That notion that he's "just a kid." He isn't, and you know it. You don't call him kiddo because you think he's a child, you call him kiddo to remind yourself to think of him as a child! You've always been attracted to him, you've always trusted him instinctively – _you've always loved him.**

It was that thought that finally brought her up short. She pulled away from him, more than slightly breathless, and stared at him in amazement. "Okay," she said, chest still heaving, "now I'M confused."

"Really?" He grinned. "_I_ thought that was pretty straight-forward."

Sara glared and swatted ineffectually at the arms still encircling her waist. "I didn't mean that. I meant… I mean…" She stammered to a stop, paused, and looked him right in the eye. "I thought you loved Lyanka."

Gabriel's playful mood evaporated in an instant. "I did," he said quietly. "I do."

"You do? Meaning you still do love her?" This line of questioning was not making things any clearer.

"Yes," he sighed, "I do. And I always will." He caught her gaze and held it, continuing, "I don't give my heart lightly, Sara. I do love Lyanka – somehow, and I suspect you know more about this than I do, I know that she and I were meant to be together; in the same way I know that, I also know that we weren't meant to be together _forever_. Whatever she and I had is over. I'm never going to see her again, and _that's okay_." Sara's eyes narrowed, unwilling to believe his words, but there was nothing but flat honesty in his face. "Because I love you too, Sara. And _that_ was not fate or destiny or God's will or anything else you might want to call it. Anything you and I have is our own, and nothing more. I don't care that you're the Wielder, I don't care that you have a higher calling, I don't even care anymore that I'm of this world and you're not. _I love you_, Sara Pezzini."

And she found that, hard as she tried, she couldn't even argue with him.

**Epilogue:**

She was never sure, afterward, just what it was that woke her that morning – it was too early for sunlight, and too silent for it to have been the birdcalls and small-town noises of a summer morning in upstate New York. Sara Pezzini yawned, stretched, and turned over to find the other half of her bed unexpectedly empty. She sat up with a start, looking around in a mild panic until she spotted her lover standing by the kitchenette and staring out the window.

Pulling the light sheet with her, she slid out of the bed and padded across the attic apartment toward him, wrapping him in the sheet as well when she reached his side. Without a word he took her hand, twining his fingers into hers. She leaned her head on his shoulder and watched the predawn light grow stronger.

"What's up?" she asked softly after a long quiet pause.

"She's dead."

Even though it had been five years since either of them had mentioned her name, Sara knew in an instant that he meant Lyanka Ladaei. She started to ask if he was sure, and then stopped – there had been absolutely nothing in his voice to suggest he wasn't. "How do you know?" she asked instead.

He half shrugged, dislodging her head briefly from his shoulder. "I just… know," he said quietly.

And she could understand that; often he would "just know" things about her, too, like when to call her at work with the information she needed for a case, or when to surprise her with things like this vacation weekend, or once, when she was sick and didn't realize it – he'd insisted she go to the hospital for a bad cough, and it had turned out to be pneumonia. She might have died without his loving (albeit infuriatingly stubborn) intervention.

So Lyanka was dead, was she? The last vampire, finally finding peace and fading out of the world's memory… there was both irony and poetry to it, and Sara didn't care for either one. Still, she couldn't help feeling sad as, together with Gabriel, she watched the sun rise.

After another long pause, she spoke up again. "What happens now?" she asked quietly.

When he looked down at her, she was startled to see a tear slip down his cheek, though the smile he gave her was genuine. "I don't know," he told her honestly. "I guess this is the end of the past and the real beginning of the future."

**_Our future._** Hugging herself tightly against his side, Sara decided she could live with that much poetry.


End file.
